I've always expected the worst, and it's always worse than I expected.

We must grant the artist his subject, his idea, his donn´e: our criticism is applied only to what he makes of it.

Art requires, above all things, a suppression of self, a subordination of one's self to an idea.

I don't care anything about reasons, but I know what I like.

However British you may be, I am more British still.

Criticism talks a good deal of nonsense, but even its nonsense is a useful force. It keeps the question of art before the world, insists upon its importance.

It was the way the autumn day looked into the high windows as it waned; the way the red light, breaking at the close from under a low sombre sky, reached out in a long shaft and played over old wainscots, old tapestry, old gold, old colour.